


As always, I'll get you the first time around ...

by StartWriting (Libra)



Category: Perry Mason - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libra/pseuds/StartWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What about the second time they kissed and made love? And what has that got to do with the famous ending scene of TCOT Lethal Lesson?  ( ' As always, I'll get you the first time around … ' )<br/>No need to say it's good to have seen The Case of the Lethal Lesson before this one. Spoilers, etc.<br/>Chapter 5, the epilogue added now. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The desk

It's dark, it's late. He holds the phone to his ear with his left hand, grunts. Ticks against the back of the receiver with his ring. The fingers of his other hand tap on the desk in an unstable rhythm, that's getting louder every second. He has been waiting for ten long minutes to have her on the phone now.  

He's annoyed.  

The damn cruise ship can't be that big. Why can't she be found ? What is she doing? Where is she? Who's she with?   

These questions are equally important as one of the question he's going to ask her, but already knows the answer to himself. He knows he's going to represent poor, afraid, innocent Ken Malansky. He's known that since he set foot in the holding room. 

But he needs to hear her say it. As if it's not true if she hasn't said it yet.   

Now, where the hell is she?   

" Mr. Mason ? " _Finally._  

" Yes. "  

" We found Miss Street, Sir. "  

" Good. Now, put her through ... "  

" Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir. One moment, please, Sir. "  

" Yes. "  

" I'm sorry it took us so very long, Sir … " 

" My dear man, put.her.through. " 

" Sir … "  

" Now! "  

" Yes, Sir. "  

" Thank you … " 

" Hello ? " _Liquefying_ , that's the right word to describe her voice with.  He licks his lips, is unaware of it.  

" … "  

" Hello ? " 

" Della ? " 

" Mmm-mmm. It's me. "  

" Darling. "  

" Mmm-mmm. "  

" It's good to hear you. "  

" It's good to hear you too. " 

" … "  

" Perry ? " 

" I'm just enjoying this, hearing your voice. "  

" Uh …  "  

" I am, you know. Makes me feel young and in love."  

" Oh, 'young' and 'in love', hmmm? Are you sure the right term for this state of mind shouldn't be 'possessive' or 'suspicious' ? The officer told me it was an emergency, and that you had to speak to me right away. But uhm … this doesn't sound very urgent to me."

 " Missing you this bad _is_ an emergency, Della. "  

" Well, then it's good I only went around the block just one time, and got here to answer your call quickly, hmmm ? "  

His body reacts to these words instantly. _Della Street, you vicious little …_  

" I suppose. "  

" Uh-uh. So, do you want me to tell you what I'm wearing ? You used to be very curious about my attire when I was away from you and out of town back in the old days … You always wanted to know where I was exactly, who I was with, why I couldn't be found …  And, as I recall, you always wanted to know if someone was courting me … and if he, or she, was succesful. "  

" I do want to know. I still do. "  

He sighs.  

" Della … " 

" What is it, Perry?  " 

" I miss you. " 

" I miss you too, dear. " 

" I need you here. " 

" Oh, Perry … " 

" I want you in my arms …  "  

" That could be nice. " 

 " And I also have a more trivial reason to have you with me, I'm afraid … "  

" Oh, dear. Do I want to know ? " 

" Frank Wellman Jr. was murdered. "  

" Yes, so I heard. He was one your students, wasn't he? "  

" Yes. Now one of the other students from my class has been arrested for the murder. "  

" Ah. "  

" His name is Ken Malansky and he's asked me to represent him."  

" And ? "  

" I'm not sure I should do it. "  

" Well, Perry, is he innocent ? "  

" Yes. "  

" So, what's the problem ? Why don't you just represent him ? "   

" I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do, because … " 

"  … Mr. Wellman. "  

" Yes. His father. You know we went to law school together. He's my friend. " 

" So, he should know that every defendant comes into court presumed innocent. And he  should be glad that Malansky's not going to be convicted, _because_ he's not guilty. "  

" Yeah, I suppose. "  

" So? " 

" Well … "  

 " Well, Perry, you'd better take this Malansky's case. " 

" I know. It's the best thing to do, right?  

" Yes. "  

" Will you be coming back ? " 

" Do you want me to ? " 

" Yes. Yes, I do. Of course I do. But you were so looking forward to this cruise … if you don't want to … "  

" Are you still at the Hyatt Regency ?  " 

" Yes. "  

" All right. I'll be with you … the day after tomorrow. "  

" The day _after tomorrow_ ? "  

" Well, we're not even close to shore right now, and the first opportunity to get off this ship is tomorrow afternoon, and then I have to arrange a flight, and, well, it's going to take time. "  

" I suppose, yes. "  

" I'll see you soon, Perry. I'll go around the block only one time, dear. "  

" Yes, yes …  "  

" I'm sorry. I shouldn't be teasing you. "  

" I love you, baby. " 

" I love you too. Bye, dear. "  

" Goodnight, Della. "  

" Goodnight. "  

The receiver lands in its cradle, and he watches his hand.  

He swears.  

The day after tomorrow. That's too long. 

He waits a few minutes, and then makes another phonecall. 

But not to the damn cruise ship. 

 

  

**_\- TBC -_ **

 


	2. (Not) on the desk - 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene in italics is taken directly from TCOT Lethal Lesson.

_Della Street walks into the suite, despite the possible limitations of her impossible high heels stepping elegantly around the bell boy, who's carrying her luggage. Entering the suite, she picks up a small envelope that sits on a large bouquet of red roses and baby's breath._

_The voice coming from the other room has the sonorous low vibrating tones she's missed more than she'll ever admit to its owner, and she can't help herself but smile as it echoes the words she's been reading on the litte card.  " Tasteful … very elegant … understated … yet, beautiful. "_  

 _" The roses are absolutely gorgeous … thank you … "_  

 _" I was describing_ **you** _… "  He stands still in front of her, carefully holding a stack of documents in front of his massive body. She knows he does that when he needs to stop himself from taking her in his arms too quickly, when he wants to keep a formal distance, because of public decorum or whatever other excuse he can make up. " The roses are the least I could do for cutting your trip short … "_  

 _" Oh, the cruise. Hmmm - mmm. Yeeees, starry nights, tropical skies, gourmet food, and the best big band since the immortal Glenn Miller. "_  

 _Liquefying_ **is** _exactly the right word for this voice. He can easily melt into her mouth right now, but he knows he'd miss the look in her bright eyes, so he stops himself from concentrating too hard on her lips, and enjoys her entire presence, he listens and he watches._  

 _She looks away, and then looks back at him again, playfully. " After four days I was so bored I could've jumped ship, even without your call. "_  

 _Her right hand lands on his chest, just above his heart. Its rhythm has already adjusted to her pace when she came in._  

 _" I'm more than appreciative … "_ _He feels an emotion he isn't prepared for. It travels fast, downwards, upwards, radiates through him at lightning speed and makes him feel warm in a way he hasn't felt for a few days._  

 _Not aroused. Warm._  

 _" Mmmm … " Her beautiful eyes sparkle at him. " How are ya ? " She takes her gloves off fast, roughly, unelegantly. It's a manner in which he'd never do that if she'd give him the chance to divest her of them. He'd do that tentatively slowly, making sure she'd feel every move of his fingers, and the leather caressing the sensitive skin of her competent hands._  

 _His eyes travel over her now, are gluing to her blouse, a shining, soft, blue silk that is cherishing and representing the woman he has been missing for the past few days. Of course, she can be without him, of course she needs time and space on her own, but not too much and not for too long. He loves her. He's a jealous, possessive fool for her, and he's ashamed of it at times, knows it's ridiculous, but it's the truth of the matter._  

 _Della Street is the reason he_ **is**. _She's the center of his conscious. Not of his consciousness, but of his conscious. He's a numb, functioning body without her, his energy considerably diminishing with every mile she's moving away from him._  

 _Her bright, smiling eyes seem to notice his contemplation, as she continues, more soft. " And … uhm … how's poor Mr. Wellman?  "_  

 _" Oh, Frank's taking … " he stops and swallows " … taking it very hard."_  

 _" Uh. " She nods, understands it._  

 _" His boy …"_  

 _" Mmm-mmm. "_  

 _" … was his whole life. " He walks around his desk and pivots to literally turn the conversation into another direction. His tone of voice changes. " Della, I want you to look into Frank Junior's past. See who else might have had a motive. "_  

 _" Any idea where to start ? " She sounds equally businesslike, adjusting to his ways without even noticing it._  

 _" Two days before the murder, he alledgedly tried to rape Ken Malansky's girlfriend. "_  

 _" Alledgedly? "_  

 _" Her name is Kimberly. Kimberly Mc Donald, she's also a law student. Same class as Frank Jr. I want you to talk to Kimberly. "_  

 _" Right. " She tilts her head. " Perry, how does Frank Wellman feel about this, I mean your representing Ken Malansky ? "_  

 _" He doesn't know yet. "_  

 _" Oh. "_  

 _Perry nods shortly. " I'm going to need all the background you can get me on the students in my class. "_  

 _" Give me ten minutes, I'll be right on it. " She takes off her coat._  

_He opens the door to the suite to walk out together with the bell boy, but he seemingly changes his mind, and turns in the doorway. " I want you to rent a car, and meet me at the court house. Ken's being arraigned this afternoon.   "_

_Rolling her eyes, she puts her coat back on._ _She sighs. " Anything else? "_

_" Why, yes. There's a list on the desk. " He closes the door behind him._  

 _Does he ?_  

 

####  

 

Walking around the desk, she picks up the list he referred to and starts reading through it diagonally, quickly. Names and addresses of a few of the possible witnesses, other possible perpetrators, and some motives for the murder are summed up. She has to squeeze her eyes a little to be able to read the scribbles. His hand writing is getting worse by the day.  

Yet the words on the little card on the flowers were very clear. He's obviously taken his time to write th card.  

She scans the tasks quickly to decide where to start, when suddenly, one particular line catches her eye.  

 _Stay where you are, I'll be back in five seconds_   

She swallows a chuckle. _Five seconds._ She pretends to be reading still, as she hears the door to the suite open and close again.  

Five seconds indeed.  

" Bell boy gone? " She purses her lips, looking from over her shoulder, glancing at the larger than life man that stands there watching her silently. 

" Yes. " It's a soft confirmation. He leans against the door behind him, eyeing her with the big blue smiling eyes that were smoldering before, while taking in the shy smile she's given him when she came in and first saw the roses. 

Isn't that just a few minutes ago ?   

He waits. He doesn't have to wait for very long. 

 " Tell me … Perry Mason … " There it is. 

She places the list with tasks down on te desk, crosses her arms in front of her and tips her chin. " … where am I going to kick you first ? " 

He just smirks.  

" A _helicopter_ , Perry Mason ? " She narrows her eyes. " I mean, you sent _a helicopter_ to pick me up from that cruise ship, really? What were you thinking? " She tightens her arms around her.  " You know I hate flying, especially in a helicopter … And apart from that, what do you think happened on the ship, when that helicopter landed on the front deck, and I had to get in, with all my suit cases? Do you have any idea how many people came to watch that piece of theatre ? "   

" I'm sorry. " 

" And it ruined my hair. " 

 He just keeps on smirking, tries to straighten his face, apologetically, but he fails miserably.  " I'm sorry, baby. I just thought that you wouldn't mind to be here sooner. " 

" Twenty hours, Perry. It would have taken me just twenty hours to get here on my own. And you sent a helicopter … You couldn't wait a few hours longer ? " 

" No. " It's barely audible.  

" And how did you arrange a helicopter ? "  

" Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Parks was nice enough to help me out. I phoned him right after I phoned you last night. "  

" Ah. " She nods, remembers Kevin Parks' case.   

" He owed me one. " 

" I think he still ows you several for acquitting him … "    

" Well, this was one of his favours to me. " He brushes the carpet with his right foot. " Did you count the roses yet? "

" No … " She looks at him, quizzically. 

" Seventeen. "  He waits for her reaction, and walks towards her slowly. 

" Seventeen? " 

_Seventeen._

Her ungloved hands are folding as she watches him from under her lashes. He takes her in. There's more than just electricity sparkling here and now, underneath the sensitized skin of two distinguished, dressed to the nines partners that have known and loved each other for what seems a life time. 

" Yes, seventeen, Della … One for every mile you had to travel by helicopter. " 

She nods. That number, seventeen, still causes more than sensible stirrings, even now. It's impossible to ignore this. She didn't even know he remembers. But she knows now. 

He rounds the desk and reaches for her shoulders. " I'm sorry, baby. I just needed you here sooner. I couldn't wait. " He whispers, taking of her heavy, grey top coat, to deposit it gently over the chair behind his desk. " And the moment you walked in here, I knew I made the right decision to have you here before you could have managed to be here yourself. "

She reaches out for his face and strokes his beard with both hands. Looking up at him, she takes in all the facets of this man that are so very familiar to her, it could make her stop breathing. It doesn't. It only stops time, shortly. 

" I've missed you like a mad man. " He nuzzles his face into her left hand, and takes her right hand in his left to kiss it. 

" Perry, I've only been away for a week. Not even a week. " 

" I just don't do very well without you … " He lets go of her hand, drops his own, and fondles her waist before his fingers crawl towards the small of her back, tickling her, arousing her to an extend she'd never tell him about. Not with words anyway.  

" I love you, baby. " He presses his lips to her forehead. 

" Oh, Perry, I love you too. "  

He tilts his head, tilts hers and does the inevitable. He kisses her shortly, once, twice, and then sways from left to right and back, opens her lips and tastes her, unable to stop moaning, unable to stop his hands from wandering over all of her. 

 It isn't until he lets go of her lips, that she starts to think about his earlier words.   

" What about the rental car ? " She queries, not willing to think about a car really, his next kiss on her cheek and the moist trail his open lips make towards her hairline, just above her ear, distracting her and leading her into another place and another time. 

" It can wait. " He breathes into her ear. " It has to wait. " 

She agrees, all of her agrees, but she whispers anyway." And, you were on your way to class. You don't want to be late. "  

" I won't be late. " He smiles against her cheek. " I don't have to be there for another hour, and Ken Malansky's arraignement is right after that. We have all the time in the world to make ourselves presentable. "  

" Presentable ? " She laughs. " Perry … _oh_ …" He choses that moment to bend down and kiss her neck just above the collar of her blue blouse, breathing heavily and hot against her skin, and the only thing she can do is grab the lapels of his jacket to pull his grand torso against her. And have more. 

Have much more while she keeps herself from falling, as her legs refuse duty and she melts into his mouth. Holding her tight against him, he pushes her backwards, until the back of her thighs touch the edge of the desk, a sensation that shoots through her as both familiar and wrong.  

But the movements become urgent, it's bad, it's necessary, it needs to be done now, her arms snake around his neck as his hands roam downwards over her thighs, her dark stockings conducting his fingers. He leans forward, one hand on the desk, one hand wrinkling up her long skirt, disappearing underneath it to pull her leg up, around his thigh.   

" Oh. " The buttons of the blouse don't resist the pressure of his grazing mouth, as they just open, one by one. She holds his face, firmly presses it against her, reveling in the beard against her sensitive skin , and he eats her, enjoys it, loses track of the other affairs of this day.  

She moans.   

Awareness strikes.  

" No. " She pushes against his chest. " We …  no … not here, not on the desk. "  She laughs softly, places one finger on his lips. " We promised each other a long time ago to never do this on a desk or … whatever office furniture … remember … ? " She smiles at him and wraps her arms around his neck to push herself up with him. " No matter the urgency … " Pulling his face down to hers, she opens her lips to make room for a scandalous kiss, that stands in no proportion at all to the words she's just uttered. 

" Your sending me somewhat ambivalent signals, baby. " His large rugged hands roam over her back, her waist, her belly, and upwards, quickly squeezing the thin skin just underneath her bossom. He reaches for her face, and holds her cheeks. 

" That's probably because I missed you too."  She's panting now too, elegantly, shuddering softly when exhaling, but the pulsating energy is there, and they're nearing a point of utter necessity again and she feels it too.  

" Perry ... "  

" Baby ? "  

" The bedroom … A bed … "  

" I know. "  

" How much time do we have? " She asks, looking at his hands as he takes off her deep blue jacket.   

" How much time do you want, baby ? "  

" That's not the question … the question is, how long do we need ? " 

" Relatively short, this time. " His eyes darken dangerously.  " But we do have … " he looks at his watch and takes it of his wrist to throw it on the desk, next to the list of her tasks. " … about half an hour … " 

 He's concentrating as his fingers walk down over her skirt, wrinkling it up again while he seeks bare smooth skin.  

" Half an hour … " She knows she has to act now, wiggles her hips to shake his hands off, and she bites her lower lip, as she grabs his tie and pulls at it, walking backwards. " Should be enough … to show me how uhm … _appreciative_ you are exactly … "

" You little … " One hand goes around her to open the door behind her, but he waits, presses her against the door to feel her, groaning.   

Her hand reaches behind her and she opens the door. 

He watches the king sized bed, and then looks back into the glooming seductive eyes of the lady that is going to join him there in the most glorious ways they both know. 

Time is momentarily not the issue here. 

She is. 

There's enough light, enough energy to fill the space. Enough urge to be fast. Fast and thorough. 

The dimples are deep, he breathes anticipating breaths.  

He uses his big body to push her into the room, and holding her to him, he leans forward slowly, over her on the way to the bed.  

He smirks and kisses her while he lays her down on the bed, gently.  

 

 

**_\- TBC -_ **

****


	3. (Not) on the desk - 2

_(2,5 times 17 years = >  42,5 years before  )_

_1947_

 

" What is it, Della ? "  

She hands him the document that contains a neatly typed list of questions they need for a deposition the next morning. He examines her eyes with his own, and tries desperately to ignore the challenging edge of her glare and the way she fingers the curls at the nape of her neck.  

The shirt dress functions as a cover, of course, without a doubt keeping her warm enough, but does nothing to hide her body from his very tempted and tested recollecting mind. The extravagancy of not only knowing what is underneath her skin and what makes her tick, but also, knowing now, after all this time, what's underneath her clothes exactly, is a joy he can't take his mind off easily. And this new sensation is signifying more and more profoundly as time strides along. It has only been a few days since he literally physically proved the deep love he's felt for her for months, and it's going to be another few days before he can do it again. He simply has to wait until the weekend.  

They have set rules about separating work from pleasure, and he wants to live by them.   

Because this time, unlike any other time, the desire to make love to a woman originates from his heart, not his groin. Carefulness is bound here, now. 

" Perry, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to read this and tell me if it's all right. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't seem to formulate properly. " 

" These are the questions for tomorrow's deposition ? " He frowns at the paper in his hand.  

" Yes. "  

" But I just dictated them, and you wrote them down in shorthand. How come you can't  … "  

" I know. " She interrupts, and sighs. "I should be able to reproduce the questions, but I seem to have problems concentrating. "  

" Oh. So you can't concentrate? " He seemingly dives into the list she gave him, but his features show a devious smile. It's the one that crinkles his nose, the one that always goes with a short crooked glance from under his lashes.  

She sighs again.  

He waits and watches her. 

There it is, that lovely rolling of her eyes. "Just read it and see if it's all right, please, Perry. " With that, she sways out of his office. 

Just before she closes the door, he starts reading, only partly conscious of the words, while fully conscious of how the hem of her dress caresses her shins, her calves. A particular area there, on the inside of her knees, is an erogenous zone, he knows that. He knows what happens if he lightly brushes the thin skin there with his finger tips.   

He swallows.  

He starts re-reading.    

 _' Have you had the opportunity during the development of your manhood … '_  

He sits up, straightens his back, and shakes his head. He blinks. That's not what it says, is it ? He starts reading again.  

 _' Have you had the opportunity during the development of your mandatory that her hands capture his bare thighs and linger dangerously close to … '_  

He clears his throat.  

 _' … were enclosing his … '_  

He snorts.  

 _' disclosing the argument … '_  

He closes his eyes, inhales. " Damn it, Mason." 

_' revealing the truth of the matter, and that is that he wants her again now …  '_

He slams the paper down on his desk, and sighs deeply, holding his head in his hands.   

 _The truth of the matter_ is indeed that he wants her again now, plain and simple, and has been succesful in ignoring this for a couple of days, but is now obviously incapable of concentrating properly as well. He runs his fingers through his hair, and thinks of the rest of the day, the rest of the week, amazing himself. Never, never in his lawful and unlawful life, has he felt the need to have no more work done for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of the month.  

They agreed on this air of formality in and around the office, for the sake of professionalism, adept contacts with vulnerable clients, and the succesful future of a starting law firm. No touching, no kissing, no lustful glances, just work. But it's as if the negation isn't there. Gradually, memories foist themselves on his awareness, images appear in his mind, urges manifest, and the desire to relive what happened are more and more in the foreground.     

He shifts to the first page of the indictment, abandoning the deposition questions, and starts reading again.  

 _' … two strong fingers … '_  

He snorts. 

 _' … too strong allegations are made. Unfounded accusations, according to defense counsel, as none of them were presented with enough non-arbitrary and conclusive evidence to watch her, to see her so very close to releasing for the very first time underneath him, her eyes squeezed together, her throat emitting the softest and most delicate sounds for him only, and he shifts to another position … '_  

" Good grief, Mason, for Pete’s sake …  " He whispers.  

He fumbles to remove a cigarette from a crumpled package, and searches himself to find his lighter. On their course over his tested and tried torso his hands come across irrefutable evidence that the subject of his preoccupied mind has affected him more than he'll ever admit to anyone. He stands up from his chair, uncomfortably.   

The lighter is in his suit pants pocket, along with his keys. He lights the cigarette on his way to the terrace, a perfect place to cool off and find control. 

After all, it's only Thursday. Afternoon.    

Though the railing of the terrace feels soothingly cool on his hands, the view isn't nearly as calming as he'd expected it to be. He laughs at himself, blowing out smoke.   

He hears the door to the terrace open and close again. Her closeness makes the thin air tingle. 

" Perry ? "  

" Della. " He inhales deeply and gazes down at his shoes. It's best if he doesn't turn. It's best not to see her right now. Maybe it's even better not to hear her right now.   

" Your three o'clock just cancelled. "   

" My three o'clock … " He frowns.  

" Mr. Montgomery. "  

" Yes, Mr. Montgomery. " He knows. He's distracted, but he's not completely forgotten he's a working man.  

" He cancelled because his father died this morning. "  

" Oh, that's awful. Send him our condolences. "   

" I already have. " The tilt of her head and the little bow she makes go unnoticed.    

" Next appointment ? " He extinguishes his cigarette.  

" Half past four. "  

He nods, holds the railing, sighs. He listens if he can hear the door open, if he can hear her leave. He can't.  

He turns.   

And then she turns too, her hand on the door handle. 

He's drawn to her automatically by the force of attraction, gravity working horizontally, and walks towards her without noticing, sees her swallow. In a natural flow, she dances around him, avoiding the warmth that radiates from him, and she reaches out for the railing of the terrace.  

He thinks he grins only on the inside but, by her reaction, understands it shows on the outside as well. He tries not to notice how all the buttons of her dress are fastened but the top two, and remembers how he's come to know the skin underneath this fabric curves downwards, the bra probably lace, cupping her breasts in a way he would, very voluntarily.  

Firm but gentle.  

All day.   

" How do you think we're doing ? " He asks her in a way he knows she knows what he means. They have tried to avoid the subject these past few days, but they're not really inside the office now, technically, so he touches it lightly. The subject. He touches the subject lightly.    

" I think we're doing a great job, keeping a … formal and decent distance. " She says watching him, slightly amused.  

" We are. " He confirms, dares to glance sidewards, ready to meet her eyes, but she's taking in the view of the city of Los Angeles. After all, it's only Thursday and she can simply not have him the way she wants him now.  

" It's hard, isn't it? "  

 _Yes. Hard._   

" But it can be done. "  

" Yes. " He leans onto the railing on his forearms, and clasps his hands in front of him. " But you know what the problem is? "  

" What's the problem, Perry? " She starts to make circular movements on the railing with her index finger. He watches it.  

" It's not decency or distance. It's time. "  

" Time ? " She crosses her ankles, and lazily leans her head on her hand, elbow on the railing, one finger still circling the cool metal.  

" I know how to cross distances, figuratively and literally, I know I can decrease distances whenever I want, in whatever way I want, and it's just a matter of discipline now, that I am not crossing the lines. "   

He's merely convincing himself, and it humours her. " Mmmm - mmm. "  

" But I can't make time go faster. "  

She just watches him.  

He continues, low and deep, sonorous, as if he's pleading. " I can't influence time, I can't make it go faster, and it never bothered me, until now. " 

" Well, time can simply not go faster. It's a law of physics, isn't it, Perry ? "  

" Physics, yes. " He diverts his gaze, snorts, then smiles. They both try to contain themselves, laughter oozing through their postures, both looking the other way.   

" We have work to do. "  

" Yeah. " He's drawn to the perfect full shape of her bottom lip. She bites it as her hands start to reach out for him. He just stands there, in his typical pose, his hands in his pockets, his feet a few inches apart, leaning forward slightly on the balls of his feet, a slight tilt to his head, his blue blue eyes taking her in completely. This is the man she let in to her apartment last Saturday night, to only have him leave her bed Sunday evening.  

" Well, let's go inside now. " She whispers. 

" Yes. "  

" I have the rest of the papers on my desk, maybe you can … " She gestures, hesitantly.  

" Yes. " He dares to follow her inside his office to her desk. 

" Della, have you … " 

" Oh, I need the … " She pivots gracefully, and ends up just in front of him, looks up into his face and catches her breath, steps backwards to find the closed door behind her back. 

She presses both hands against the wooden exit. He's close now, dangerously close, but still able to make no contact, though one hand dangles in the air. She watches his hand.  

He inhales. 

She closes her eyes. 

" It's no use … is it ? " He says it softly, while he drops his hand without touching her, seemingly decisively placing it in his pants pocket.  

" No … " she manages to utter, huskily, bends her head forward slightly, so that his lips come to be one inch away from the line where her flawless skin is taken over by her curly hair.  

" We can't. " He breathes against her hairline, wills his hands into fists in his pockets, but his left hand slips out, and lightly brushes her hip, cruising upwards along the curving firm line of the slim waist he’d studied long and intensely while she slept in between the libidinous interludes of last weekend. 

He already knows the texture and expanse of these few inches of skin by heart, recalls what they look like, taste like, feel like, smell like.  

He doesn't feel undergarments and suspects he's a wishful thinker, presuming wrong. He presses more firmly. There it is. Definitely lace. White maybe, creamy white, the same colour as the garterbelt he took off in the private quietness of her bed room, and a thousand times in the haunting dreams that lasted and lingered, night and day for four days in a row now. 

" It's no use … " He sighs again.     

" This is ridiculous, Perry. We should be able to … " She crosses her arms in front of her chest.  

He looks down at her more than decently kissable mouth. 

" Yes. " He purses his lips and closes his eyes, his one hand again leaning against the door behind her now, the other one still in his pocket.    

" I think we should be able to keep ourselves in check until the weekend … " She says, knowing she has to move away from him, soon.  

He nods. " I agree. " His mind works overtime, but all senses, all parts of his body, every part, _every part_ yells at him …  

Another time, another place.  

No, not here, not now. 

But the negation isn't there. There. Here. 

" Where's Gertie? " He tries to find a way out.  

" She had to leave early today. " It's no use.  

He grabs her hand, while she reaches out to remove a speck of lint that isn't there from his lapel. The hand is cold, damp. He should chafe it with his own to warm it, but she pulls it back, clasps her hands in front of her, and clears her throat.  

" Do you want to go over the questions again, and the other documents … " She tries to find another way out. " Did you find some things I need to correct ? "  

" No. "  

" Did you read the supplementary documents that were handed in by the plaintiff ?  " 

" No. "  

" You're not listening at all, are you? "  

" No. Yes. I am, but  … "  

He can't help it.  

She's too close.  

He loves her.  

He tells himself he just wants to help her out by opening the door behind her, placing his hand on the door handle, pulling at it. But the laws of physics rule here, and she stumbles towards him as he opens the door slowly, closing the distance between them succesfully. The moment he feels her glorious softness against him, his free left hand flies to the small of her back, yanks her against him, and he slants across her mouth, finally tasting the addictive flavor of her tongue, reviving sensually, feeling as a child finally permitted to open his birthday present. He groans while his mouth bites its way down her delicious neck, his hands wander and wonder, he's moaning with the same deep-seated primordial intensity as she is. Her arms fling around his neck, her fingers grab at his hair, as she welcomes and facilitates all his moves. She pushes herself against him, inside him.   

" Oh, Della, my baby … " He articulates the words into the fabric that hides her cleavage as he lifts her up and bends down at the same time, turns, almost falls forward but makes it to his desk, and then she feels the back of her thighs touch the edge of the desk, a signal that sends sirening sensations through her, but she lifts her legs upwards around his waist, to accomodate him, welcome him as if they are not here, not now.  

Urgency rises. 

Amongst other things. 

And then awareness strikes.  

She pushes against his chest with one hand, holding her other hand on her own chest. " Perry. No, not here; not on the desk. Not here. " Both her heels land on the carpet. 

 He steps back, tries to control his breathing, but is entirely unable to do so, and laughs despite himself. " I'm sorry. " He inhales, exhales, inhales again and steps back again, adjusts his tie, breathing heavily, his eyes darkened, roving over her until they finally focus on the beauty of her flushed face.  

He reads the shock in her eyes, and notices to his own unexpected mirth that her enticing yet fully covered chest heaves in the same rhythm as his. " My … it's bad, Perry. "  

" It is. "  

" We're not going to make it, are we ? "  

" We have to. "  

The fingers of his left hand run through his hair, he closes his eyes momentarily and makes a decision.  Saying it very softly, he hopes the tremble won't be audible. " Get my car, Della. "  

" Your car …  " She pants, does it elegantly, but she can't think clearly. Is he suggesting what she thinks he's suggesting? A warmth she's been ignoring for the past four days starts glowing through her until it sparkles and tickles body parts that are very well covered during working hours for very good reasons.  

" Yes, my car, Della. "  

She ignores the suggestion. " Are you leaving ? You have to be back here …  " 

" … no, Della … " He interrupts her " …  **_we_** are leaving. "  

" But, Perry, the next appointment is at half past four. "  

" We can be back here in time. "  

" Can we? " 

" We can. " He presents it as the indisputable truth.  

She gasps, then chuckles softly, pursing her lips in the dearest way possible. " I can't believe you're actually … " But he looks at her with those eyes, the warmth is becoming heat, and it won't be long before it will transform unsolidly into liquid. Time will start to vanish shortly, maybe place will too.  

She shakes her head, as if to rid herself of sensations running through her now that she’s becoming aware of how weak she is for him, memories of the past weekend seeping through her carefully emotionally closed, business minded brain. But she dwells on how incredibly handsome he is, how excruciatingly attractive, and drifts back in time to reminisce how strong and sensual he was, for the first time in her bed room, next to her, on top of her, beneath her, behind her.  

She knows she has to stop this.  

And that it **is** no use to even try. Considering time and place, this might be a law of physics too.   

" Get my car. " He's relentless in a very enticingly dangerous manner.  

" Are your keys on the desk? " She whispers. Consciously placing one delicate foot in front of the other, she slowly and carefully walks around him and starts searching.  

" They're in my … " he exhales " … my pocket. "  

" Uh. " Now she slowly reaches out, pointing at him with one index finger at first, then two. Languidly slowly she trails down his shirt with both fingers placed next to each other. She watches her own movements, very vividly remembering that right here underneath the stiff white fabric, there's this fascinating feature of just enough, not too much, but just enough oh so masculine hair running in a line from his navel down to a vigorous area that she is still trying to find a good word for. As if that is necessary.    

" Which pocket? " Her fingers stop their tease at the waistband of his trousers, and then linger to the side, one to the left, one to the right. " Left or right ? "  

His lips part, he closes his eyes and swallows. The sharp intake of breath makes her smile deviously.    

" Ah. Here they are. " She pulls the keys out of his left pocket, slowly, the tremor it causes making her smile more deviously.  

" Della … "   

" What ? " 

" You're … bad. "  

" _I'm_ bad? You're the one suggesting we're leaving here to … uh … be out of the office for just an hour. "  

 " I'm sorry. "  

" Are you ? " 

" I'm sorry we'll have to skip dinner and dancing this time … "  

She's unable to look anywhere else than into blue, deeply desiring, heavy lidded eyes, and she whispers. " I suppose we can … we can do without the dinner and dancing part. "  

" Oh, we can, Della. Get my car. " He shakes his head, disbelieving his own urgency. " We have to get out of here. "  

" Where are we going? " 

" Your place. "  

" My apartment. "  

" Yes. It's closest. " 

 This is exactly what he meant by influencing distance, and time, and it hits him, hard and fast, everywhere.  

" Well, aren't you coming? " She asks him, all the while holding the keys to his car, his heart, his future, soundly in the palm of her hands. 

" Not yet … " He smirks so indisputably widely and desirous, she almost misses he's biting his lower lip, but she doesn't miss it and holds onto the doorframe of the office's exit door. Her legs start to refuse duty. His next words drift towards her, and merely reach her through sensations instead of sound waves. " I'll be out there with you, in five minutes, Della. "   

" All right. "  It's barely audible. And then she turns. " Mr. Mason … " 

" Miss Street … ? "  

" One more thing … "  

" Yes … "  

" You'll have to sit in the back of the car … "  

" … oh ? " 

" … I'm driving. "   

With that she closes the office door, and he inhales deeply, the palm of his hand sweating against his forehead.  

 _" You'll have to sit in the back of the car. "_  

" Get a grip, Mason _…_ " Is he saying it out loud?  

In a blur, he walks out of the office, and realizes he can't lock the office doors, because she took his keys with her.  

He can't be bothered, but knows he's acting irresponsibly, and takes a minute to think of a solution.  

There's a spare key at the receptionist’s desk on the ground floor.  

The ride down in the elevator is unusually slow.  

He orders the receptionist to lock his office because he suddenly has to leave, and misses the smirk on the guard's face.  

He's too preoccupied. The car is already stationed at the entrance of the office building, and he slips into the back seat without even glancing at her.  

She doesn't look at him through the rear view mirror, just pays attention to the road. 

The silence says it all.  

All kinds of thoughts whirl through him, and when they reach the front of the appartment building where they are finally going to find their needed privacy, not to mention her bed, his heart beats out of his chest.  

He takes another decision. " Stop here. "  

" What ? " She startles.  

" Stop here, Della. "   

She stops the car next to the curb, and watches him climb out of the car with minimum effort. Keeping his eyes on the traffic, he walks around his car, halting at the driver's side.  

" What are you doing, Perry? " She chuckles.  

He leans down through the open car window and cadges for an illegal short kiss that lengthens and makes them both moan.   

" I'm going to walk around the block a couple of times. "  

" You're going for a walk ? "  

" I need … I need some fresh air …  " … _or I won't even make it inside …_  

" Ah. " She looks through the front window, nods. " I never knew it could be this bad, Perry. " Her eyes are wistful, loving. He realizes she's never looked at him in any other way. He realizes her desire has always come from the heart.  

He realizes she loves him too.  She's here, now. 

He almost falls forward into hazel depths.  

" I’ve never experienced this before, Della. " _I love you and I need you and I want you, in that specific order, every minute of every day. For always from yesterday until beyond forever._  

" Neither have I. " _Ditto._  

" I never left my office, for just an hour to … "  

" To what … ? "  

" To make scandalous love … " 

 " Is that what you're going to do to me?  "  

" Della, please. " He moans. "  If I have to _tell you_ what I'm going to do to you, I don't have to do it anymore … "   

" Oh … " Did he just say what he just said ? Does it mean what she thinks he means?  

She watches how his large forceful hands tighten their grip on the edge of the car window, and he swallows, before he looks away from her shortly and falls back into her eyes deeply, his mind already doing what he's going to do, and very soon. 

She liquifies. 

He walks away.    

All cliches are true now, the heat spreading from deep within diffuse through her, her temperature rises, the palpating rhythm of this anticipating moment being incredibly consuming. No, he can't make time go faster, but he does have the ability to manipulate it by using distance. The fact that he takes a walk right now, says it all.   

 _' If I have to tell you what I'm going to do to you, I don't have to do it anymore … '_   

Her hands are shaking, her keys are jangling against the keyhole of her front door as she tries to push the right key in it. She pants in advance, as she leans her forehead to the cool wooden door, smiles.  

 _Get a grip, Della Street …_  

She walks through her appartment, into her bedroom, opens the door to her balcony, and steps into the bright daylight displayed by the Calfornia sky. The breeze soothes her, calms her down a little. She wonders what to do next.  

She doesn't have to think for long.  

There he is, in the small alley behind her appartment building. He probably expected her to come out here, and has been waiting there. She tilts her head. He tilts his, and his eyes love her, beam at her. He's too far away so she can't hear the words, but sees how he says them, how his lips form them, and knows it's true.    

She leans onto the railing of the balcony, watching him shamelessly, as he simply parades towards her, is not for a second taking his eyes off of her, roving up and down over her in a way that tingles through her. As if his eyes do touch her, and cause the severe shock waves, that hint at a covetousness she'll soon learn to be close to dangerous.  

 _'Hi'._   She mouths it to him, but now he just scrutinizes her surroundings, looks around. 

Is he up to what she thinks he's up to? 

" Do you think I can come up from here ? " He asks her, looking up.   

" It's not what a fire escape is meant for, is it? "  

" It's meant for emergencies … " He is indeed checking out the fire stairs, counting the steps, and estimating the distance between the stairs and her balcony. " I'd say this is an emergency. " 

" What ? " 

She tries not to laugh out loud, when he indeed does the unthinkable, flying up the fire escape stairs, taking two steps at a time. In one lithe movement of his larger than life frame, he swings his legs over the steel lattice, and lands in front of her on his two feet.  

He exhales audibly.  

" Impressive. "   

" Thank you. "  

" You didn't walk around the block a few times, did you ? " Her voice is soft.  

" No. " He reaches out for her hand, and she offers it elegantly, listening to what he's saying. " I thought it best if I got to you the first time around. " 

" Maybe I should send you back to finish your walk first… " Her eyes are dancing, straying over him restlessly, taking in every single detail of his attracting posture, to savour this moment, to stretch it. Maybe she can influence time this way.   

" Maybe you should. "  

" All thirty-four steps back down. " She's been counting too. 

" Seventeen. " He's been counting too, taking two steps at the time. Decreasing distance, and time. To hell with physics. 

" Uh. " She nods, slowly. " Do you think you can do it again? " 

" I think I can. " His smiling eyes are already undressing her.  

" Maybe I wouldn't want you to. " She tugs at his tie, walks backwards slowly, elegantly avoiding the doorstep, into her bedroom.  

She laughs at him, feasts on him with her eyes, the taste of him, all of him, already in her smiling mouth. He feels it, tastes her too. 

He uses his broadness to urge her to walk further into the room, breathing laboriously, closing the curtain behind him with one quick impossible movement of his right arm while the left reaches out for her waist. The magnetic force can finally reveal itself, overpower them, now, here in this secluded place, since time is not the issue anymore. The number of times is.    

" Della … " He halts. " I love you … "  

She emits an undefinable sound, and he interprets it as a request, a confirmation and an invitation at the same time. His open mouth trails her cheek, downwards, indulgently nipping and sucking her glorious soft skin, her neck, and she pushes herself against him. He groans, his hands frustrated, unable to touch every inch he wants to feel at the same time " … oh, my baby … I love you … "  

" I love you …"  

" I need you … "  

" I love you … " 

" I want you … " In that specific order.  

" Have me … " She electrifies him. 

" I love you … " He says it, just before their mouths fuse. 

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a small voice tells her she has to close the sliding door to the balcony. 

But she can't close that distance anymore now that the most important distance is already closed. 

 

 


	4. (Not) on the desk - 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scenes in italic are taken directly from the movie.

The sensation of his rugged, warm chest against her bare back is reassuring enough to make her doze off every now and then, way after the usual six o'clock wake up call. His right arm is wrapped tightly around her, his large right hand holds her left breast, possessively and protectively at the same time. She's awake now, leans her head backwards just a little, dwells in his dear familiar warmth, his typical strong masculine scent, and the soft moaning sounds he makes in this state of comfortable slumber. He shifts a little, squeezes her breast. She brings her hand over his arm and strokes the hairs she finds there. She can't see him, her back is turned to him, but she feels him. These moments are exemplary for the love they share, she feels real and alive, hale, cherished and above all loved, so loved.  

This is the best position to sleep in, and to wake up in, because they're almost as close as they can be, entangled in warmth and unaging tenderness.  

Even now, after all these years, she still wonders what happens to his left arm if they're  spooned up like this. He can't be laying on his left arm, his massive body won't let him, it's a physical impossibility. The limb must be in the way somehow, unless he throws it up over his head or tucks it under a pillow. This time, she feels his left arm is underneath her pillow. That makes sense.  

So it must be something else that is pressing against her back right here and now, it's _not_ his left hand. It simply can't be.  

" Are you awake ? " She whispers and reaches behind her.  

" No. " He whispers back.   

" Yes, you are. "  

" No, I'm not. He uhm … he has a mind of his own … "  

" _He has a mind of his own?  "_   She laughs a throaty chuckle, turning in his embrace. " Oh, has _he_ now? " Wiggling her hips, she raises one incredible leg over his thigh, the twitching tremor it causes evoking the smuggest look in his suddenly open eyes, as he grins and hefts himself up.  

" Yes, he has. Didn't you know that ? " The sleepiness makes his voice lower and lovelier than she thought possible.  

A cry of surprise reverberates through the suite as he grabs her tightly and rolls her to his other side in a way she almost falls off the bed. Then he shifts backwards, pulls her against him, and rolls them over again, not completing the full circle, but maneuvering himself so that he is comfortably on top of her, leaning on his hands and his screaming knees to lift his weight of off her. The law of physics rules here, in more than one way.   

He inhales deeply and bows for her, a perfect position to kiss her lips and to make a moist trail all the way down to the hollow of her thoat.   

" We should ... no, Perry … " She chuckles, moans a little, manages to get some words out in between another searing kiss and a scandalous long harsh sweet love bite in her neck. Laughing again, she pushes against his chest. " It's almost seven thirty … we should get up. Ken Malansky expects us to sit at the desk at eight thirty and we have to … _oh_ … " He bites her neck again.  

" Oh, does he? " He groans, enjoys this even more than she does.  

" Yes. " She laughs out loud, twists and squirms, but he's relentless, holds her wrists next to her face and looks into her eyes.  

" So … " He murmurs something inaudible.  

All features that are his show and make obvious what he is going to do next, he doesn't have to say it, she knows what it is. She pulls her hands out of his loose grip, wants to touch him. Her body prepares for what is coming, because it's not a matter of 'if', it's a matter of 'when'. And she knows that too, and she doesn't mind at all.  

" So ? " Her nails scrape his sides and he moans shortly. 

" So, I have to be quick… "  

" What? "  

" Quick. I might be old and creaking, I'm not slow. "  

" Well … "  

" No, you know, I can be very, very quick. "  

Even his eyes grin at the loud gasp she makes when he connects them in one firm and rough stroke. He groans. " Oh, yes … my dear Della Street, how I love you in the morning … "  

" Oh, dear … " She pants, grabs at him and brings her legs around him as far as she can. Never can nor will this feeling be equalled and she knows it and he knows it and knows that she knows and they take advantage of this, the closeness and smoothness of this moment. There is nothing more important than here and now.     

Their breathing becomes ragged, as the movements develop urgency, fast and feverishly following instinct, the pace more primordial and more unrhythmic than maybe appropriate at this age, but who cares? Who needs and considers age at a time like his ? Quickly, but very quickly they're pushed over the edge, all the while being more than unusually loud, the screaming uncontrolled but eminently necessary.   

" That must be a new record. " She breathes against his chest.   

" Mmm ? " He's still catching his breath.  

" That was within thirty seconds. "  

He laughs snortingly.  " And who's counting here?  " He leaves her slowly, grins at the shudder it causes and bites her neck again, which results in another loud gasp he wouldn't want to trade for anything in the world.  

" I am ... " She threads her fingers through the thinning hair on his skull as he descends alongside her, brushing his torso against her sensitive, now steamy skin. " I am counting. And … I'm keeping an eye on the clock. We really should get dressed now, Perry. " Then she playfully adds, " Before the hotel staff comes in to check on you. "  

" Check on me ? Why ? " He moves, sets himself onto the edge of the mattress and rubs his face with both hands, then scratches his neck and sighs.  

" Well, you were uhm … rather present. " She leans onto his shoulders from behind, snakes her arms around his neck, and kisses his cheek, once, twice. He sweats, does nothing to hide it, just lets it be and she loves it. It's more Perry Mason than she feels she deserves.   

" As in ? " He looks sideways.  

" As in: you were rather vocal. " She speaks to his ear softly. " They might come in and see if you're okay. " Checking out his facial expression that holds a cross between a sleepy face and a mischievous grin, she smiles.  

" I'll tell them I was dreaming of taking a beautiful lady on my desk. " He leans back against her, not too much for he might crush her if he does. The rules of physics are to be taken literally here. 

" On your desk … uh … " Her long elegant arms are brought up in the air to stretch herself.      

" Some people would call that _'exciting'_. "  

"Uh. " She walks into the bathroom. " Some people call a helicopter flight ' _exciting_ '. " 

He snorts. " It's the only place where we haven't uhm … done it. "  

" What ? In a helicopter? " 

" No, on the desk … "  

" But we've started it there so many times … " She sighs while looking in the bathroom mirror. " Damn you, Perry Mason … " 

" What is it ? " He comes around the door.  

" Look at my neck. You left some serious marks here. I’ll have to wear a turtleneck today. "  

" Oh … " He stands behind her and wraps one massive arm around her thin waist. " Oh. Yes you do. I'm sorry. " He touches one of the bite marks with his index finger, and watches it more closely. " Uhm … I'm not. " The smirk is larger than the man himself.  

She sees it in the mirror and she sees him mimicking the bite again before his mouth reaches the aforementioned inches of skin, and she pushes him away. " No, don't make it worse. I don't want to scandalize anyone, especially Ken Malansky. " 

It isn't until they're both almost fully dressed, when he reacts on her last words. " So you actually think Ken Malansky can be scandalized … " He hands her his tie, and she brings it around his neck to complete his attire.     

" Well, he considers himself a man of the world, but I'm not sure how much he can handle. " She says, a little distracted by her task at hand.   

" He knows about sex, Della. And he knows about us … it's hard to miss. " He murmurs.    

" I know. " She says it while concentrating on the complicated twists of the nod.   

" He has the potential to be a man of the world, and he seems young and insecure, but think of it, Della, apart from his case, he's also muddling through some matters concerning relationships now, that make his life more complex than it has to be. " Perry looks at the competent hands of the lady who’s made his life far less complicated than it could have been.  

" And you're going to tell him ? " She's tied the nod. Her hands land on his chest briefly, then she turns before he can lean down to kiss her. There's work to do, there is breakfast to order and shortly there will be a youngster here that needs their undivided attention, potential man of the world or not.  

" If and when time and place are right, yes. Maybe I can help him a little. "  He says it while following her out of the bedroom towards his desk. The suite oozes the fresh scent of a new day, full of posibilities and solutions.  

" If and when time and place are right. " She repeats his words, fingering the flower petals of the red roses, and the baby's breath he's given her on the day she arrived here. " Seventeen … " she whispers.  

" What did you say? " He calls to her from over his shoulder. 

" Nothing. I'll order our breakfast, with extra coffee. " 

  

 _####_  

 

 _" They are the only ones who knew Frank was staying in the court room. " Perry confers more with himself than with his client or the magnificent lady who is bringing him coffee. Her dark leather boots drive him to a level of distraction she must know about. Though he is very, very aware of the neatness of her attire, and how it is supposed to be dressing her to the nines, he can't help himself and grins deviously. He knows she's hiding what needs to be hidden from the rest of the world._  

 _Ken Malansky is restless, they've both noticed that and it doesn't strike them as unusual or odd for a person in his situation. The poor young man is innocent and needs confirmation about that and other matters in his life. " Mr. Mason, rather than just sitting around, would it be okay if I went back to the courtroom and check it out? " Ken asks._  

 _Perry agrees. " All right, Ken, I'll arrange it, but I want you to be careful. "_  

 _Ken will be leaving. Perry's mind counts the steps towards the woman behind him. He thinks that if he turns his chair and reaches out for her, he can touch her arm and pull her to him. That is what he wants now. He knows he shouldn't, but he wants to feel her. Just feel her._  

 _" Right. " Ken stands up and walks towards the door, his jacket in his hands. " There is one other thing. It's Kimberly … "_  

 _" Actually it's Kimberly and Amy. " Perry interrupts him. Della turns abruptly at the tone of his voice. He can't see it, but he knows she does, because they have been talking about this moment and now apparently is the right time._  

 _" You noticed. " Ken says._  

 _Della softly brings her hands into the pockets of her jacket, waits, tilts her head, amused. Wonders what he is going to say._  

 _" It's hard to miss. "_  

 _" Kimberly is a terrific girl. Lord knows she's pretty … " Ken muses. " … and then there's Amy. She's crazy. "_  

 _Perry nods. Smiles. She can see that he does without actually seeing his face._  

 _Ken continues." I mean she can be wonderful too. She posted my bail, and I am grateful. But she's out of control, I never know what she's going to do next. "_  

 _Della closes the distance between them, lingers her hand on Perry's back, he feels the warmth of her elegant fingers through the fabric of his suitjacket, his shirt and undershirt. He searches for her eyes but she ignores him._  

 _" Some people call that_ 'exciting'. _" She underlines her words with a peculiar nod to Ken. Perry just feels the small squeeze of her hand on his back, and he wishes Ken all the best, but the youngster has to leave now. Perry wants to be alone with her. Not to have sex, but to have her undivided attention. He's becoming an egotist concerning her. She's his. His only. He might not have enough time around her, he doesn't know how much time he still has, and he wants to influence the amount this way._  

 _" If you're asking for my advice, I think right now, you have to concentrate on the trial. " Perry uses his formal tone._  

 _" You mean give them both up? " Ken asks, startled._  

 _" I mean, make a choice. " Perry states it. " And stick to it. "_  

 _" Right. " On his way out, Ken notices the wistfulness in Perry's eyes, and the way the older lawyer looks at Della Street. He tries to interpret what it is he sees exactly. It makes him think he has to chose Kimberly, and he wonders if he can stick to her. " Thanks. " He says it, but hesitates._  

Perry watches Della watching Ken leave, smiles while thinking again about the reason she is wearing what she's wearing today, concealing the proof of his invasive and overwhelming ardor of this morning. He likes the fact that he is the only one who knows what's underneath that turtleneck, and that he's caused it. The earrings, her make up, her ladylike manners, are in sharp contrast to the fury she can be, if given the right time and place, provided with room and opportunity, privacy. The completeness, the wide range of all the different dimensions of the woman that is Della Street and how they seemingly contradict, fascinate him. Has fascinated him for years on end, and it becomes more fascinating while growing older.      

It is only at the moment the suite door shuts with a soft click, he notices she's watching him too.  

" What was that all about? " She leans back onto his desk, crosses her ankles, and folds her hands in her lap. And then it happens, like it happened the first time when they were around each other, and all the times after that. Her entire being is concentrated on him and vice versa. They become one, without touching, fuse without fusing. Some time, at one point in the future, and she realizes that fully, they will never be able to be apart even if they would want to.   

" Giving some fatherly advice. " He turns his chair towards her.  

" It was more like grandfatherly advice … quite directive …  " She touches his lapel, draws a circle on it with her index finger. " I think you should have asked a question, instead of telling him to choose. He can't do that so rationally, otherwise he would have done it already. That's probably what he wanted you to tell him. How to choose. "  

" Well, that's easy. " 

" Is it? "  

" Yes, he has to choose the one he sleeps with. "   

" No. " She looks at him incredulous. " He sleeps with both, Perry. "   

" He does? " He asks, genuinely surprised.  

" Yes. Well, I don't really know for sure of course but it would make sense to me. He's a young, handsome virile man, and both Amy and Kimberly are vulnerable to him. " She shrugs. " But uhm … sex is a bad advisor, Perry. The groin doesn't chose wisely. "  

" Oh. " His facial expression is semi-serious, and he brushes her hand with his own.  

" Especially the male groin makes rash decisions, based on very short term expectations and uh …  longings. " She closes her fingers around his, and squeezes.  

" Oh. " He smiles, intertwines his fingers with hers, watches their hands together and strokes her palm with his thumb. " What should I have asked him ? "  

" Who he loves of course. It's the only right basis to make the choice. "  

" But he doesn't know that, Della, that's exactly his problem. "  

" Maybe he doesn't dare to chose, afraid to miss out on something. "  

" Maybe. " He searches her face. " Who would you want him to choose? "  

" It's not up to me. " She shrugs again and plays with his fingers, looks at it while she does." I don't know who he loves. "  

" I know that. But who would you want him to choose? Who would be best for him? "  

" Amy. Without a doubt. " She says with no hesitation.  

" Why? "  

" You mean, apart from the fact that Kimberly will be in jail for a very long time after this trial ? "  

" I know you think Kimberly killed Frank Wellman Jr. … but I don't agree yet. "  

" I knew it the moment I saw her. "  

" Well, apart from that, yes, why Amy?  " 

She lets go of his hand and takes a deep breath. She looks around in the room, crosses her arms in front of her chest and starts pacing slowly. " Well, Ken has to chose Amy, Perry, simply because he needs the excitement she brings into his life. He's so in control, calculated, so shy at times, and she is the opposite at the same moments, she's totally irresponsible, recklessly unpredictable, she doesn't care at all about whatever rules, laws, places or time. She does what she thinks is good at the moment it comes up. It's not always very appropriate, but it sure makes life more interesting. " Della Street is pleading, and looks so lovely while doing so, it reaches his heart _and his groin_. He has to urge himself to listen to her words. " Perry, I spoke to Kimberly, at your request, and you were right, she's a good girl, she's the paragon of efficiency, she's intelligent, smart, good looking, and so … " her shoulders sink in " … boring. " She sighs and doesn't notice he's smiling at her lovingly.   

She continues. " Amy is so much more fun. I think that is what he needs, he needs to be challenged in the way she can do that, if he wants to practice law, if he wants to have a pleasant life, he needs that kind of influence. She's so …  so … so … " The right word doesn't come to her. 

He radiates the word, knows what she means.   

 _… unconventional_  

And then she says it " … unconventional. Of course she needs more experience and she will be once bitten, twice shy … But they can keep each other in balance that way. Kimberly would just add more of the same to Ken's life, and Amy would bring difference, excitement. They'd be the proverbial hundred percent together. " 

 " _Totally irresponsible, recklessly unpredictable_ … " Perry repeats her earlier words. " Can I quote you on that, when the time is right ? " 

" Yes. " She nods emphatically. " Yes, you can. And don't underestimate her, she's not a dumb girl, Perry, she may be downright impudent at times, but you should have seen how she fathomed Ken when he said he was innocent of killing Frank … Think about how she never hesitated to bail him out. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Perry … "  

He nods.  

" It's the way she sinks her teeth into things, without letting go, the way she lets her strong beliefs in him prevail no matter what, her complete dedication …  " she chuckles " … and the remarks she makes sometimes and the smartness that she displays, unexpectedly and so natural … And I'm very sure that he can't be forced to stick to Amy, I mean, probably things will change somehow, his world hasn't completely crystallized out yet, he might not know what he wants from life exactly and he is only thirty … He has just started practicing law so he might not have it in him to choose yet … but … in the end only time can tell … and …  " There is an undeniable change in the energy flowing through the room, it makes her stand still and look at him. " What ? "  

" Nothing. " He shakes his head very shortly, but holds his eyes locked on her. " When was the last time I told you I love you ? "  

She squeezes her eyes in her characteristic, questioning way.  

He waits.  

There it is, that lovely tilt of her head.  

" This morning. " She answers.   

" And when was the first time, baby ? " He asks her, draws her in while she thinks about it. Her curly hair is somewhat longer these days, and the charming greyness that goes with her age shines through. He loves that, it makes her features even more soft than he thought they could be.  

" When you were uhm … thirty. " She nods, understands what he means. 

" Ken's age now. " He reaches out and she takes his hand without hesitation. " And what, Miss Street, happened to the forty two years in between ? " He kisses her hand, pulls her to him and brings his hands upwards to hold her cheeks, staring into her eyes. She leans her hands onto the armrests of his chair.  

She raises one shoulder. " I guess we consummated them. "  

" That we did. We took full advantage of them … " He reaches for her scarf, gently drapes it around her neck and uses it to pull her down slowly and kiss her. " I love you, Della Street. " 

" I love you too, Perry Mason. " She whispers back. " And I do hope Ken makes the right decision. " 

" If he doesn't, I'll use all my tactics to force him to … I know how to make a right decision … you know that … "  

" I know that … and I know about your tactics … "  

" I  always do. Use tactics … " 

" Yes, you always do. "    

 

####

 

 _Ken's nervousness after the positive outcome of the preliminary hearing is even more prominent than before it. Experience has taught them that clients need time to fully realize that they are actually acquitted, and that their physical and emotional reaction can be delayed, but Ken doesn't display any of these symptoms. His mind's already on the next level. As if he never really doubted that he would be acquitted._  

 _" Where's Amy ? " He asks._  

 _" Well, earlier she said she was going to go pick up her two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bail money, and uh … leave town. " Della answers Ken._  

 _" That's what you've been telling her to do, congratulations." Perry exchanges a glance with Della._  

 _" Yeah, I guess so. "_  

 _" You guess … " Perry feigns indignation, and he starts to quote." She was totally irresponsible, recklessly unpredictable, and if you don't go after her this second, I'll personally see to it that you never, ever practice law. "_  

 _Her chuckle is almost inaudible, but he hears her, and smiles. " Not one word … "_  

" I wasn't going to say anything … " She says. " Except that that was quite convincing … Mr. Mason. "  

" Let's go home … Miss Street. " His face is serious suddenly. 

" Yes, let's do that. Let's go home. " She nods. 

 

####

 

 _They both watch the young couple leave in Amy’s Cabriolet._  

 _They're more than amused. Tactics do get people anywhere, even if it means riding around the block three times._  

 _" You want me to get the car? " Della asks._  

 _He nods. " I'll get the luggage. "_  

 _He waits for a smart remark of her, something spectacular about his manipulative ways, and the fact that Ken has just left with Amy, as planned._  

 _There it is. He sees it coming by the way she turns and looks at him._  

 _" Oh, and uh … would you like for me to drive around the block three times ? "_  

 _The moment she hears herself say it is the moment she sees the smirk on his face, and she knows what his next words will be._  

 _" No, as always … I'll get you the first time around. " The dimples are deep, and there is a slightly naughty sparkle that sizzles softly. Oh yes, he has his tactics. He's always had his tactics._  

He knows it makes her think of that ridiculous moment, not a lifetime but long ago, when he flew up the fire escape stairs of her appartment building to reach her balcony, to steal her heart and make new memories, make love and make noise. He knows these old memories make her weak, and he watches her struggle to maintain the posture of the good girl she still wants to be, suppressing instincts for the sake of public decorum, until they are in needed privacy. But his eyes can see through the black long leather jacket and they perceive what is happening underneath.  

Time traveling has become one of his specialties during the years, now that they have both reached the age that there is more time to look back on than there is time to anticipate. In a split second, all moments that her beauty had a hard time concealing her sensuality, crosses his mind. 

" You can't think of a good solid retort, now, can you ? " He smiles, wills his hands back into his pockets. He can't touch her in the way he wants now. They're in public, and no matter how much time seems to have changed, some things should be kept private.  

" Well … " She smiles, flushes a little. It's that enticing flush, the one that he recognizes from numerous spectacular moments. " Actualy I can."   

" Well? "  

" You'll have to sit in the back … "  

His breathing is out of control somehow, and he moans unexpectedly as the sensations shoot through him. The woman who walks away from him now, for only a few minutes, at whatever age and whatever distance, is still and forever will be the only woman who can do this to him. 

 

####

 

She checks his face in the rear view mirror every now and then.  

He's brooding on something. A thought, a notion is in his mind, she sees it but doesn't know what it is.  

" What's wrong, Perry? "  

" Nothing. " He says without looking at her.  

It's silent.  

" Della? "  

" Hmmm ? "  

" Am I telling you enough that I love you ? " 

" Perry, you do. You know you do. And you don't always have to tell me. "  

It is silent again.  

" What about Denver, Della ? " 

" What about it ? "  

" What about moving to Denver … " He says it softly, too softly. He doesn't want her to think about it yet. If he hears her say antything about it, it's true, and now it's only one of his possible ideas for the future.  

He just had to say it to himself, express it as a possible idea for that future. The time might not be right yet, but fact is that only time can tell. And time can be a friend when deployed properly. So, he'll wait. Until he wants to hear her say anything about it. Which would make it real.   

" What ? " She asks, keeping her eyes on the road.  

" Nothing. " The time simply isn't right yet.   

" Uh. "   

He shifts a little. 

" The files of next week's cases are in the briefcase next to you. " She informs him.  

" All right. "  

" You better start with the depositions in the Meiner case. " She adds, while he opens the briefcase and takes the stack of files out of it.  

He clears his throat and opens the first file.  

 _' Have you had the opportunity during the development of your manhood … '_ He blinks. That's not what it says, is it?  

He starts reading again.  _'Have you had the opportunity during the development of your mandatory that she tilts her head back to give him full access to her neck, and he sees where he's bitten her before, she brings her hands in between them and … '_  

He clears his throat.  

 _' … are enclosing his … '_  

He snorts.  

 _' disclosing the argument … '_  

He closes his eyes, inhales.  

 _' revealing the truth of the matter, and that is that he wants her again now …  not tomorrow, not in a few hours, but now. '_  

 _Damn it, Mason. Concentrate. You're not a thirty year-old …_  

But he can't focus on anything else than the curves that fill his mind.   

It's no use.  

He sighs, looks out of the window. " How long is our journey home ? Fifteen hours ? "  

" Yes, about fifteen hours. " She confirms, a bit absent mindedly, taking in his gaze via the rear view mirror, as she tries to interpret it.  

" Fifteen hours … " He repeats softly.  

" Yes, it's about a thousand miles. I'd planned to stop somewhere just before Las Vegas, and check into a hotel there. It's about half way. " 

Somewhere just before Las Vegas. That is an eight hour drive. Eight hours. That's too long.  

For him, for her.  

She startles, suddenly aware of the meaning of the earlier look in his eyes. It takes her a split second to decide, and she starts to get in the right lane for the next exit. 

" Della ? What are you doing? " He searches her eyes through the rear view mirror.  

" We're going back. " 

" What? " 

" We have to go back. We forgot something at the hotel. "  

" No, we didn't, Della. " 

" Yes, we did. " The hazel eyes reflect a sudden urge and she indeed takes the next exit. 

He shakes his head in wonder and anticipation, and decides to enjoy the drive and the surprise. Della Street never forgets anything, anywhere, anytime.  She's too efficient for that. The fact that she's driving back now, all the way to the hotel, means that there is something else going on. 

Some people might call that ' _exciting_ '. He considers it a wonderful benefit of living and working with Della Street. 

He looks out of the window and smiles. 

 

\- TBC - 


	5. "Epilogue" : On the desk

\- _42 minutes later -_

 

The air tingles. 

He looks at her in absolute awe, because he senses why they've come back here, to this suite, but he suspects he's a wishful thinker, presuming wrong. Yet that other side of him, the unpredictable, reckless side of him, the devellish side he succesfully represses during the day, hopes he's right.  

Another reason why he's speechless momentarily, is because it was only now, in the elevator, he noticed that the suite is situated on the seventeenth floor. He's spent the better of the last weeks here and only fully realizes now that he's on the seventeenth floor. When he mentioned this to her, she nonchalantly said she noticed it the first day when she arrived.  

He doesn't know if he believes her, but now that her eyes sparkle at him, nothing else seems to matter.  

" Why are we here, Miss Street? " He investigates her beautiful flushing face, the edge of some kind of a young smile, naughtily displaying and colouring her appearance. " Why did we have to drive all the way back here? What did we forget? "  

His deep voice vibrates towards her and reaches every pore of her, fully. She hesitated about this for a moment, while standing next to him in the elevator, yet contemplates that there has never been a better moment to do this. That this is probably why she's waited for so long.  

The right time, the right place.  

And after all, the desk is still here, big, solid, standing at the same position in the suite, like the receptionist said. Very obliging and very responsive, she has given them the keycard to the suite, because they said they've forgotten something important there, and the dignified elegant lady said she and the lawyer only needed a few minutes to fetch it.   

In the suite.   

Fetch something they've forgotten. Something important. In the suite.  

And in a way, they have.  

And it must be important, the receptionist believes so, because they have left one and a half hour ago and have come all the way back to the hotel now. So it has to be vital. Of uppermost importance.  

Della Street, sixty seven years of age, has fantasized about this, of course, because nothing is more logical for them than this, yet it was never done before. Not by the two of them together. She's never, but never let him have his way with her this way.  

But there's always a good time for a first time, isn't there? Even if it may be reckless and even a little irresponsible at this stage in life. But that _is_ exactly why they're here now, here and now.  

Living life to the fullest means you have to take chances sometimes.  

" Della? " He asks her again. " Why are we here? " Exhilaration hammers through him. 

" Well … " She urges him to follow her eyes.  

They are directed at the desk, and his attention is drawn to the bouquet of seventeen red roses and baby's breath he'd given her on the first day she arrived here. The hotel staff must have placed the bouquet there, while cleaning the suite.  

The little card is still on it.   

" Did we come back for your flowers ? For your bouquet ? " He says it, incredulous. " But I can buy thousands of roses in L.A. for you when we get back home, baby … "  

" We didn't come back for the roses, Perry. " She articulates the words without looking at him. " Lock the door, please. " It's almost a whisper.  

The gentleman that is Perry Mason crinkles his nose, detects that he's nervous, and laughs at himself. He obliges, fully aware of the energy that starts spinning in the room. He turns, locks the door, and turns back again, not fully aware of the firm altering in his breathing, because he's drawn to her movements, glued to what she does as she's slowly taking off her gloves in the way he'd always want her to do that, cherishing the competent fingers, and her lips are parted in the most enticing manner he's ever seen of her.  

" Then why are we here? " But he knows for sure now and it hits him hard and fast. It is the notion that he has never done this, that he's never crossed her forever placed firm boundary concerning office furniture in general and his own desk in particular, has always listened to her, respected her wishes considering place for forty two years and now, she does want him to have her this way, invites him to do so, provides them with the essential privacy, and looks as if she's enjoying it in advance.  

He swallows. But his mouth's still dry, his heart rate speeds up in anticipation.  

She waits until her heart pounds a little less fast. It gives her some time to think about her next words. She doesn't know exactly how to say it, she doesn't know how to still be a lady and at the same time request him to do what she wants him to do, which can be considered, mostly by herself, a most unladylike act. Performed by the lovers they are, involving this desk.  

But it's not just the act, it's more than that.  

" We came back here for this desk. I know we're blessed with a … quite a consuming passion, maybe not very common at our age … and I don't know how long we still can do this. " She shakes her head. " What I'm trying to say is that I think we should do this while we still can … "  

It's the sweetest request.   

" Before it's too late … maybe. " Goose flesh travels over him.  

" I'd regret it, Perry. " It's the most ultimate truth.  

He reaches out for her.  

There is one more thing that needs to be done, before she can allow him to overwhelm her. She takes the vase with the seventeen roses, smells at them while dancing around him, walks a few steps towards the small side table, and places the bouquet there, where it was when she came in that day, a good week ago. When he had sent a helicopter to fetch her, to have her with him, faster than she could have managed to get with him on her own. Manipulating and mastering distance, and thus time.     

She feels how he feels now, catches his eyes with her own, doesn't care anymore about her breathing, her heartbeat, just notices his state, loves him for it, realizes that she's about to fulfill one of his deepest wishes that is also her own, and wonders why it has taken her so long.  

Walking backwards now, she feels as if she's going back in time.    

" Perry … " Her voice is low, hoarse. The back of her thighs touches the edge of the desk. She leans back to it.   

" Della … " The look in her eyes takes his breath away, but he can still speak. " My, Della … "   

She swallows.  

All familiar parts of the prelude are here and present, yet he still can't believe that this is what she's instigated, that this is what she was thinking about in the car before she turned to head back for Denver. But this is what it is and it is about to happen.  

He lightly takes the last stride necessary to reach her, brings his hands to her waist, underneath the heavy black leather coat she's wearing, and works to push it off her, kisses her neck while doing so. The coat lands on the desk behind her softly. She brings her arms around his neck, inhales his scent and dwells in it. " I want you to love me … Perry … "  

" Are you sure ? " He embraces her, presses her soft body against his, feels the love that is warming them up. " Here ? " 

" Yes, here. "  

" On the desk, baby ? " It's still unbelievable.   

" Yes, on the desk. "  

He inhales and exhales, closes his eyes for a moment. " On the desk it will be … " He leans down, his large arms swing around her, over the smooth surface of the desk and all that is there, papers, folders, the phone and pencils,  land on the floor of the suite with the appurtenant sounds. He looks at the turmoil he's caused and smiles dimple deep. " I have always wanted to do that. " He whispers, searching for her eyes again.  

" I know …  " She whispers back, strokes his face with two hands. Her eyes shine at him. " Did it feel good? "  

" Oh, yes. It all feels very … very good. " His words come out slowly, husky, his voice is impossibly low, and shivers with a desire that she knows to hold a covetousness that can become dangerous. And it will be dangerous now. She knows it, she'll welcome it, and she’ll like it.   

His eyes shine back at her. 

Her hands tremble, yes, she's thought of this, has started thinking about this from when it almost happened for the first time forty two years ago, and when she was able to stop him from doing it. She'd daydreamed about it in their early years, imagined how she'd hold onto his muscular upper arms while he'd lean over her to have her. Later, when age started counting in more ways then they'd want to admit, she used to think of the way he'd throw his head back at that moment when she'd tell him to let go, how his hands would tighten their grip on her, how he'd move, how he'd lose control, how she'd claw at him, what they'd whisper to each other.   

In a few minutes, there is no doubt about that anymore, she will know what it all will be like.  

There is infinite and unstoppable desire in her eyes now, he reads it, reads what she wants, and reacts to what he sees automatically. He doesn't have to think anymore, instinct takes over.  

He kisses her, hard, opens her mouth with his tongue, brings his hand over the back of her head to tilt it back for better access and loses the battle with patience. She emits an undefinable sound, and he unconsciously and ultimately interprets it as a request, a confirmation and an invitation at the same time.  

She grasps the lapels of his top coat, and tries to shrug it off him. Without losing her lips, he helps her take the coat off and throws it unceremoniously across the suite. It lands on the items he just shoved of the desk, quite ceremoniously.  

His open mouth trails her cheek, downwards, indulgently nipping and sucking her glorious soft skin, her neck, and she pushes herself against him, moans deeply, endearments, his name. He groans, his hands frustrated, unable to touch every inch he wants to feel at the same time. The press of her legs around his thighs is maddening.  

It's urgent now. It has to be done, and it can be done, here.  

He leans onto the desk with one hand and strokes her skirt up with the other, while she brings her elegant hands between their bodies to get rid of only the most offending fabric items now. She chuckles softly. How can something so wrong feel so right? 

Then he pulls back, suddenly. He wants to see her eyes while this happens.  

" … Della, baby … I love you … I've always and in all ways loved you … You know that … "  

" Oh Perry, I love you …  Let's do this while we still can …  " She whispers, he presses his forehead against hers. He's close to her but not as close as he can be, and she makes quick work of the practicallities that need to be dealt with now.  

He pants. " My God, I want you, Della Street … " He's about to explode.   

" Have me … here … now … " She quivers, electrifies him while she leans back on the desk, it shoots through him, all possible remaining restraints disappear like ice in the sun.  

" I love you … " He says it, just before the magnetic power of nature overtakes them at lightning speed.  

They fuse.  

As if it's their first time around.  

 

And in a way, it is. 

 

THE END (for now) 

**Author's Note:**

> And an endless thanks to my patient and brilliant beta OldEnglishD ...


End file.
